


Extraordinary Fades

by JO Lee (1337nik)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Castiel, Come play, Demon Dean Winchester, Episode: s10e03 Soul Survivor, Explicit Consent, First Time, Grace Sharing, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Healing Cock, Mark of Cain, Sam Ships It, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 05:39:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1337nik/pseuds/JO%20Lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel thinks he can cure Dean.</p><p> </p><p>Happy birthday, Natalie. <33333</p><p>(<b>* Updated:</b> Oct. 2016 - Prose tightened up, more detail added.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extraordinary Fades

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hufflecas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflecas/gifts).



> I found the conclusion to "Soul Survivor" highly suspect - it didn't match the cure from the MoL video at all. So here is my reinterpretation.
> 
> Based on several interesting metas about this season's title card, hehe.  
>  
> 
>  **Disclaimer**  
>  This is an unauthorised work of fiction featuring characters from the series _Supernatural_ , with portions of script by Eugenie Ross - Leming and Brad Buckner. Title, as always, stolen from Matthew Good. I claim no ownership of the above and I’m making no profit of any kind. 
> 
> **Dedication**  
>  Written for [hufflecas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflecas). Happy birthday, bae. <3
> 
>  **Thanks**  
>  To [Ashliee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashliee), [CaptOcie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptOcie), and Dre for the readthroughs and ego boosts.
> 
>  **Links**  
> [Livejournal](http://plusonetoque.livejournal.com/16814.html) | [Tumblr](http://plusonetoque.tumblr.com/post/103736327339/extraordinary-fades)

_And something I was will sing  
_ _from your mouth of proof_

\- “Extraordinary Fades”, Matthew Good

 

Sam crept through the Men of Letters’ library, demon killing knife in hand, his heart racing. He tried to listen close, to calculate Dean’s trajectory; each door slam and footfall echoed throughout the bunker, making it difficult for him to pinpoint exactly where his brother was or where he was headed.

With his right arm still in a sling and him unable to properly aim a gun with his left, his only option was hiding, like they were playing a game of tag in the woods and Dean was “it”.

“C’mon, Sammy!” Dean called from what sounded like the direction of the kitchen. “Don’t you want to hang out with your big brother? Spend a little quality time?”

Sam kept moving, ignoring the steady march of footsteps advancing in his direction. He made it to the electrical room without running into Dean, but a loud crack of wood nearby - a closed door getting kicked in, maybe - meant he probably wasn’t very far off.

With his good hand, Sam grabbed the lever for the main circuit and pulled it into the off position, plunging the bunker into darkness except for the emergency lights that cast an eerie red glow on everything.

“Smart, Sam,” Dean mocked him, even closer now. “Locking the place down. Doors won’t open. I get it.

“See, here’s the thing - I don’t want to leave! Not till I find you.”

“Fuck,” Sam cursed under his breath. He was trapped with a psychopath wielding only God knew which of the weapons they kept liberally sprinkled around the Bunker. Time for Plan B, whatever that was.

 

“Just let me finish the treatments!” Sam pleaded.

“You act like I want to be cured,” Dean sneared at the presumption. A couple hefty swings and the electrical room door was half demolished. Dean stared through the hole, into the room at his baby brother, and smiled cruelly. “Personally? I like the disease.”

Despite Sam’s calls for him to stop and his pathetic whining of “Oh noes I don’t want to do this, woe is me!”, Dean swung the hammer again and kept wailing away with it until he was able to smash the whole damn door open like an egg. And the chicken who laid the egg? Off running scared again.

“Sammy!” Dean scolded him for fleeing, like a parent blaming Sam for breaking the door himself. He sort of was Sam’s only parent - the old him, anyway.

“C’mon, Sammy, let’s have a beer. Talk about this.” When Sam refused to reply again, the last of Dean’s patience finally snapped.

“I’m tired of playing. Let’s finish this game!”

Dean found Sam peeking around an empty corner, looking like a puppy about to piss itself. Dean swung the hammer hard at him, but Sam’s reflexes were still pretty sharp and he managed just to duck out of the way. The claw embedded itself in the concrete wall right where Sam’s temple used to be; Sam somehow got to his feet and held up Ruby’s knife in defence, digging the cutting edge into the flesh of Dean’s neck without slicing like he should have. Dean smirked and released the hammer.

“Wow. Look at you.” Dean shifted against the knife, taunting his brother. “Do it. It’s all you.” Sam made the fatal choice of backing down, going against everything Dean and Bobby and their father had taught him about going for the kill. Dean’s eyes flicked to black and he advanced, about to finish the job when someone grabbed him from behind: Castiel.

  


“It’s over. Dean, it’s over.”

The angel’s arms were strong around Dean’s trunk; even all of his souped up Knight of Hell mojo couldn’t break him free of the new and improved Castiel (now with kung fu grip, apparently). The demon writhed and snapped and swore at them but with it weaponless and subdued, they wrangled it back into the dungeon and bound it once more in the Devil’s Trap and spellwork chains. Sam quickly moved in and plunged the final syringe of sanctified blood into his brother’s arm, just below the other track marks - and Cain’s brand. The demon and the bunker fell quiet. 

Sam was completely and utterly exhausted, but until he had his brother back, he wasn't going to see his bed any time soon.

“Do you think it worked?” he dared to ask Cas, his weary audible in his voice.

Before the angel could answer, Dean’s head lolled on his neck and he sat up as best he could in his restraints. Slowly, as if awakening from a deep but unrestful sleep, his eyelids slid up. His eyes remained pitch black.

“Sorry, boys,” the demon answered with a loopy grin. "No dice." Sam sagged in despair, but Castiel pulled himself to his full height and raised his blade.

“I have one more solution,” he offered.

“What?” Sam looked at him, confused, then he saw the sword. “No, Cas!” he begged, but Castiel was already pressing forward to seal his mouth over Dean’s snarl.

A bright blue light leaked from Castiel and flowed into Dean. It curled around his heart, filled his stomach and his lungs, his eyes and brain, burning away the black cloud that clung to his soul. The demon screamed, desperately clinging to Dean’s flesh with its claws, carving him apart from the inside - then the pain and the noise were gone. Dean’s ears rang with the silence in his head. All that remained were Castiel’s lips on his and Dean was so happy just to be rid of that darkness suffocating him, he started to kiss back.

“Uh,” Sam said dumbly, reminding them that they weren’t exactly alone. “Okay.”

* * *

There was a knock on Dean’s door.

“I’m busy,” he half muttered, not wanting to face Sam right this second. Or, ever.

“It’ll only take a moment,” came a much rougher voice from the other side of the wood. Dean stood up from sifting through his small collection of family photos, contemplating ignoring the knock - except he couldn’t pretend to be out or asleep since he'd already answered.

“Shit,” Dean huffed and and went to the door. His dark haired saviour stood there, always in that tan coat - version two point oh, Dean noted. Cas looked at him with those huge blue eyes, worried but relieved at the same time to see him doing something as mundane as cleaning his room.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean couldn’t meet his eyes, instead looked past him at the wall behind his head. There was still so much shame, not just at what he’d become, but that the people closest had seen him like that. That he’d almost killed Sammy. Dean wasn’t sure he could ever look either of them in the face again. He didn’t deserve to.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel nodded and stood in the doorway, like he was waiting for an invitation. As if he wasn’t already welcome in the bunker, or they hadn’t just made out in front of Sam.

“Come on in,” Dean finally waved the angel into his room. He busied himself sorting through the things on his desk, pretending it was an ordinary day. After several agonisingly silent minutes though, he finally gave up trying to organise the papers and books - including the pictures, which he tucked into some thick volume on demon lore - and turned to Castiel.

“So, uh. Cas, what happened?”

“After Metatron . . .” Castiel stopped to purse his lips. “After you . . . died, the Mark of Cain twisted your soul -”

“Yeah, yeah, I got all that.” Dean didn’t mean to sound callous, but after what he’d done tonight, he didn’t need the play by play. “What just happened? Out there?” He pointed to the hallway.

“I think,” Cas began to explain slowly, “Something very special. In rare - extremely rare - circumstances, an angel may make a sacrifice; they can transfer their Grace to someone they care about, a brother or sister, to bring them back. It usually happens on the battlefield. You might call it . . . an act of love.”

Dean took a moment to try and digest this.

“So, what, you’re human again?”

“That was a welcome side effect,” Castiel admitted dryly. Anxiety painted Dean’s face.

“You could have died?”

“Should have, yes. I’ve sacrificed literally everything I’ve ever had for you, Dean: my position in the Host, my wings, my . . . soul. But it appears that this is my reward. Now, I get to be with you.” Castiel smiled, a small and tentative expression, like he wasn’t sure Dean would accept this explanation, and he was imagining he’d be dumped in the middle of the wilderness, left to find his own way, all alone again.

The longer Dean was silent, the more Cas’s smile faded.

“I - If you’re angry, I can go . . .”

Without a word, Dean crossed his room and captured the ex - angel’s lips with his own, feeling a warmth flood through his body - not Grace, but want, settling hot and heavy in his gut. Castiel had saved him from Hell yet again. Dean prayed that he never had to leave.

“Please don’t, not again,” Dean begged and kissed Castiel once more. He could feel the surprise on his lips, the questions. But there was something else too, growing against his thigh through layers of fabric and denim; not his own erection, but Cas’s. Dean smiled back and broke the kiss finally, leaving them both breathless, Castiel panting, his lips wet and red. Dean couldn’t stop staring at Cas’s mouth.

“That was somewhat unexpected,” Castiel noted in his deadpan way. Dean let out a laugh that echoed down the hall and he had to duck away to shut the door, maybe a little too loud. He hoped that Sam had taken that as a sign to make sure his headphones were securely on and his music turned up.

“Only ‘somewhat’?”

“We were demon and angel - enemies, just a half hour ago.”

“Yeah, then you put your head on the fucking chopping block for me.”

Cas’s smile returned. “True.”

“And you kissed me first.”

“Also true.” Now Castiel’s face was split wide, showing off all his even white teeth. His cheeks were even a little pink. It was one of the best things Dean had ever seen.

“Come here.” He crooked his index finger, leading Castiel back to him, and they embraced again, a little rougher and hungrier than before. Cas pressed his tongue into Dean’s mouth and he accepted it more than willingly, stroking the muscle with his own. Cas led him back into his mouth and sucked on Dean’s tongue, making him moan.

“Damn, you’re getting to be a pro at this,” Dean murmured when his tongue was free again.

“I’m sure that’s a compliment but I’m not an ‘awkward virgin’. I have done this before.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. Don’t worry, I like experience points. But what about with a guy? Even just . . . oral?"

"No," Castiel conceded.

“And how far do you want to go?”

“The . . . endzone.”

He was trying to be sexy but Dean couldn’t help laughing at the awkward sports metaphor Castiel must have picked up from . . . who knew. Him, probably.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

Cas stopped kissing him long enough to look him square in the eye. “Shut up and take your pants off.”

Dean nearly jumped at the wave of heat that rolled through him and pooled right at the base of his cock.

“You don’t have to tell me twice." He already had his jeans around his ankles before he stopped. "Wait, if we’re going to do this -” Dean walked bareassed over to his nightstand and grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom from the pack that he always had stashed there, more from habit than frequency of use.

"Let me. This looked very pleasurable when the pizza man did it," Castiel took the supplies. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You paid attention to the details while you watched porn?"

"There was much I had to learn." Cas carefully opened the foil package and  tipped the condom into his palm, then eased it down Dean's rapidly hardening shaft. His fist tightened as he went until he was jerking Dean off.

"Shit, you really did pay attention," Dean shuddered. He didn’t anticipate Cas knowing to roll his wrist when he got to the head or to reach down to cup his sack, so Dean and pulled away before things went too far.

"Was that not correct?" Cas looked so sad.

"The opposite, dude, but don’t waste the overture on the pre - show." Dean kissed Castiel again, pushing him back until his calves hit the bed and he fell backwards, bringing Dean with him with a heavy thud.

"Don't break my bed," the hunter pouted.

"That would be a shame. It is very comfortable." Cas melted into the memory foam, leaving Dean to try and wiggle him out of his pants and shorts by himself. Castiel’s cock was long and cut, standing out like a red beacon against a bed of dark curls. Dean couldn't help himself; he sank his mouth down the length of it, completely forgetting his own prepped hard - on just for a taste.

Cas’s hands scrabbled for Dean’s hair, much longer than he usually kept it. That meant more for Cas to pull. Dean pumped him a few times then slid off, a string of saliva mixed with precome falling from his lips to the bed, and stared up through hooded eyelids. Cas gave a pathetic little whine.

“I want you inside me," his voice rumbled. Obliging, Dean moved up to kiss Cas’s lips again and pressed the full length of their bodies together, their heat and scents intermingling. Even without his Grace, Cas smelled like a storm, wind and electricity and powerful rains on the horizon; Dean still smelled like the last bar he went to - cigarette smoke, stale beer, cheap perfume. Then, of course, there was the building smell of sex. Dean felt kind of drunk on the two of them combined. Castiel begging to be fucked certainly didn’t help.

Dean lubed up a pair of fingers but went gently, starting with only one, sliding into Cas’s body up to the first knuckle. When he was used to that, Dean went further, pushed to the second knuckle, and eventually added the other finger, spreading them in a v shape to stretch him good and wide. Cas just groaned into Dean’s lips and asked for even more.

At last, Dean peeled off their shirts, added more lube to the outside of the condom, and crawled into position. He used his slippery hands to open Cas’s cheeks a little wider for better access, eyes always on his face, watching for any red flags. Dean licked his lips and moaned inwardly when the head of his dick bumped Castiel’s hole, but he wouldn’t go any further without giving Cas one final chance to back out.

“Last time, Cas. Do you want this?”

“More than anything.” That was all the go ahead Dean needed. He pushed in, bottomed out. Castiel was so slick that there was no hesitation, no resistance, just one slow thrust before he was inside, all the way up to his balls. They moaned in unison, both of them adjusting to the new sensations - Cas full of Dean’s cock, and Dean completely enveloped by Cas. He started out slow, both of them not exactly versed in this type of sex, but it was still nice. Where a woman was all soft curves, full breasts and coy eyelashes, Castiel had hard, strong lines of muscle.

Dean had thought he’d get flabby doing all that zapping around, or even driving his pimp car, but angels didn’t exactly eat so there were no calories to accumulate. That was, until Cas fell again, permanently this time (Dean secretly hoped). Now he would have to work out. Good thing the Men of Letters had a gym, one Sam must have stocked with used equipment while Dean was . . . out. And showers, with good water pressure. Plus there was always plenty of good food in the pantry to replace everything he’d just sweated out (gross) so he’d have to do it all over again.

Dean stopped. Here he was, newly human again and balls deep in someone - Castiel for fuck’s sake - and he was already thinking domestics. Making up for lost time, he supposed.

“Dean?” Cas sighed his name from under him. Right. Cas. Under him. Getting fucked by him.

“Just . . . getting used to this whole human thing again. It’s . . .”

“A little overwhelming?”

“Yeah.” Dean started to move again, leaning down with his elbows around Castiel’s head, their bodies flat together.  Cas’s dick lay hard and hot between their bellies and Dean shifted more than he needed to rub against it. Hearing Cas moan his name and feeling the warm precome spread all over the skin around Dean’s belly button made him grin. He rocked his pelvis, sliding in and out of Castiel’s heat, and the now ex - angel keening and writhing against him made him grow bolder.

Dean continued to pump away as he sat up and maneuvered Cas’s legs, hauling them over his shoulders so he had a better, deeper angle to thrust into. If being a demon had taught Dean anything, it was stamina; where feeling Cas’s tightness bear down on his cock might have sent him over the edge before, now Dean was able to go a lot further. He bounced a little on his haunches, moving in and out of Cas’s hole with a vigour that was making Castiel almost full out shout with each thrust now. Fucker was vocal. Dean liked them loud but he made a note to apologise to Sam in the morning. Maybe help him relocate further away, or stock him a second room at the other end of the bunker. (Damn if Dean was giving up his room when he just got it back.)

Dean even added his own shout to their little cacophony when Castiel’s ass clamped down hard on his dick and Cas came, shooting a long white stripe halfway up his chest. Some of it landed on Dean’s stomach; a bead hit Cas under his lip. Dean laughed and bent down to kiss it away before Cas’s tongue snaked out to claim it for his own. It wasn’t long before Dean was teetering on the edge of his own orgasm, huffing and panting Cas’s name into his lips, both their bodies covered in sweat and dotted and striped with come.

“Cas!” Dean called as the world exploded around him and he pressed deep inside to fill Castiel completely. Dean didn’t notice that he’d slipped out and fallen over onto the other side of his bed until he awoke to Cas staring at him in a panic.

“It’s all right, man. I’m okay,” he croaked out and groaned, a shockwave of pleasure rocking his brain as he moved and his half soft dick rubbed against the bed.

“You don’t sound okay.” Castiel sat there with his come dripping off onto Dean’s blanket. Dean growled; after a lifetime of motels, he hated sleeping on crusty sheets. To prove that he was indeed fine, Dean tackled him to lick him clean, and Cas half yelled and half laughed when he found himself covered by the hunter.

“Hey, listen, I’m happy for you guys but I hate you!” came Sam’s distant voice from somewhere else in the bunker.


End file.
